Way Back Home
by toreax
Summary: Some things are more complicated than others. Especially when you don't tell.


It was a deafening silence. The kind of silence that made your ears ring, that made you squirm in place to make _some_ kind of noise before the atmosphere got ten times more uncomfortable. Wirt's leg was started to burn from the constant tapping of his foot, and he'd lost count on how many times he had sniffed or rubbed his hands together or dragged his quivering palms against his pant leg. Anxiety didn't begin to describe what he was feeling.

It was dark. He was getting dizzy from his eyes jumping to every blurry, passing yellow painted line on the road that was lit up by the glowing moon - the moon that hauntingly reminded him of the sky in the Unknown. With that thought, he tightened his hold ever-so-slightly over Greg's hand. Ever since they returned, Greg wouldn't let go of him, constantly clutching his leg or squeezing his hand to death or hanging off his hospital gown. He didn't mind. If Greg hadn't done it, he would've.

Spending a week in the hospital for observation didn't help his exhaustion. He didn't sleep at night, holding onto awareness like it was the only thing left to do. When he did go under, he was awaken from the nightmares and fear of those glowing eyes that seemed to glued over his shoulder.

There were too many questions. What happened; where were you; how long do you think you were gone? Apparently time passed differently in the Unknown. They had traveled for almost a week but here they were lost for a few hours. They were in a coma, they said. No one knew what the comatose state has brought them to.

Wirt had always been a pretty accepting person. You don't like me? Okay, that's fine. You're gay? Cool. You're a pyro? Just don't set me on fire. Maybe it was what made him such a pushover. Of course, he wasn't accepting to _all_ things that quickly. Like his step-father. He still refused to call him dad, didn't think he ever could. What if Sara didn't return his feelings? He would accept it, maybe go into denial for a while, but still. When he woke up, he thought it was a dream, but from the way the potted plants in the trunk had grown through the seats and curled around their head and arm rests said otherwise. He couldn't exactly explain to the nurses why all the flowers in his room that had been brought as gifts had dug into the tile and wrapped around his and Greg's bed frames.

He cleared his throat. His mother took that as a sign he was going to finally speak. But he didn't. He saw her eyes flick to he and Greg's twined hands.

The silence was broken.

"It seems you and your brother have gotten...closer, than before," she said softly. He could see the way her knuckles went white as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She was still mad that didn't tell her what happened. Well, he did, but it was just how they got in the predicament in the first place.

He couldn't tell them. He'd sound crazy.

He nodded, keeping his mouth closed. He hadn't spoken much in the past week. The doctors said it was to be expected. He was in a _coma_ and almost _died_. His throat was raw and itched whenever he moved his tongue. From all the screaming he did in the Unknown, it would make sense. Especially since now he'd wake up from a night terror yelling for Greg from the bottom of his lungs. With that thought, looked over to Greg. The vines had snuck over the little boy's shoulders and grew from the bottom of the car and wrap around Wirt's wrist and their hands. This time, he didn't swat them away in fear of his parents seeing.

It seemed his step-dad considered the break in silence to speak: "Wirt...you know you have to tell us what happened at some point."

The tapping of his foot stopped. He looked out the window, watching the silhouettes of trees lean forward as their car passed. He could hear the owls conversing all the way into the car. "I already told you. I went to the graveyard to meet some friends and we fell down the ledge and into the river." Truth. "I don't remember anything after that." Lie.

Quiet.

"It was a party, wasn't it?" his mother said tightly. It wasn't a question.

"Don't you know how unsafe that is for Greg?" his step-dad snapped. His usual calm demeanor wasn't an option at this point. "You were supposed to be watching him, Wirt. You're his big brother, you have to be the better person!"

"And a _party_ isn't an ideal place to take a seven-year-old!" his mom added cruelly. He flinched away.

"There wasn't anything bad," he said quietly, trying to defend. "It was just a few kids from school. It was completely safe."

His step-dad turned his head to the side, and Wirt thought he'd seen the plant-life that was striped over their seats. But he only said, "Evidently not!"

"You were almost ran over by a train!" his mother barked. She'd always been the one with the temper. Didn't matter to him, he preferred physical pain over being hated. "Yeah, don't think I didn't hear about _that_. You both could have been killed. Nothing is safe about drowning Greg!"

"I didn't try to drown him!" His throat burned.

"Now Greg is going on and on about this place called the 'Unknown,'" his step-dad said hopelessly. "He won't stop talking about some bird that talked to him and this 'Beast' character, which is probably how he saw you - "

"I am _nothing_ like the Beast!" he yelled, startling himself in the process.

 _The_.

"Do _not_ raise your voice, Wirt!" His mom gripped the steering wheel harder. It would have been a better idea to let his step-dad drive in case she got too angry. " _You're_ his big brother. _You're_ the one who looks after him when we're not around. He's seven goddamnit! His mind is creating a place to cover up the trauma you put him through!"

Flashes of Greg passed through his mind. Him being covered in grey vines. Lifeless. And those eyes were still there. He knew they were right.

 _What do you want me to say?_

I'm sorry didn't seem to cut it.

"Wirt?"

He looked to Greg, who seemed to be startled awake. The boy used his free arm to reach out sleepily for him, yawning wide. He wiggled his fingers.

Wirt couldn't help but smile a little, albeit strained from his parents still being able to hear them. "Not now, Greg. It's dangerous to be in the same seat. Besides, we're almost home."

Greg pouted, tightening his hold on his hand. The vines wrapped more and he giggled. Then he glanced up at him. "Wirt?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss Beatrice," he said.

Wirt felt his chest construct a bit. "Me, too."

When Greg had fallen back asleep, his step-father hesitantly said, "Who's Beatrice?"

He smiled softly. "I don't know. Probably someone from the Unknown."


End file.
